


The Kids Aren't Alright

by prouvaireafterdark



Series: Michael Sanders AU [6]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, And His Bi Son's Gay Boyfriend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Introspection, M/M, Michael Guerin Needs a Hug, Michael Sanders AU, POV Walt Sanders, Sexuality, Teenagers, Unconditional Love, Understanding, Walt Sanders Loves His Bi Son, Walt Sanders is a Good Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvaireafterdark/pseuds/prouvaireafterdark
Summary: After watching Michael push his food around with his fork all through dinner, Walt isn’t exactly surprised to hear two soft knocks on his bedroom door later that night.***Michael's worried about Alex. Walt does what he can to help.
Relationships: Michael Guerin & Walt Sanders, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Michael Sanders AU [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742722
Comments: 45
Kudos: 236





	The Kids Aren't Alright

**Author's Note:**

> My lovely followers on Tumblr asked for some Michael Sanders AU Hurt/Comfort, so here’s Walt being a supportive dad to Michael after the events of Honey, If You Stay 💜 I hope you like it!
> 
> P.S. A lot of the fics in this AU can more or less stand alone, but I think you’ll get more out of this one if you read Caught in the Moment and then Honey, If You Stay. The references will just make a lot more sense

After watching Michael push his food around with his fork all through dinner, Walt isn’t exactly surprised to hear two soft knocks on his bedroom door later that night.

“Come on in,” Walt calls once he’s shuffled the bills littering his bedspread into a haphazard pile in front of him.

The door creaks open and he looks up to see Michael pausing at the threshold, wearing a worn t-shirt and a soft pair of green flannel pajama bottoms. He’s practically a grown man now, but the sight of him standing there reminds Walt of that first year after he adopted him, before Michael had really let it sink in that this was his home now. He was always so cautious then, unsure of where his boundaries were and afraid that one wrong move would land him back at the group home. It makes Walt frown to see him looking like that again.

“You alright?” Walt asks.

Michael hesitates as his eyes flicker from Walt’s face to the stack of papers in front of him.

“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and standing up a little straighter. “You’re busy, I’ll just—”

“Michael,” Walt stops him, shaking his head. He moves the pile of bills to his cluttered nightstand and pats the empty space on the bed beside him with his palm. “Sit down.”

Michael walks into the room and climbs onto Walt’s bed, stealing a pillow to hold while he sits cross-legged facing him.

Walt gives him a moment to get his bearings before he asks, “What’s on your mind, kid?”

“It’s Alex,” Michael admits after a minute, eyes fixed where he’s plucking idly at a loose thread hanging from the seam of the pillowcase.

Walt figured as much. It takes a lot to rattle Michael and there’s no one else besides those Evans twins he’d be so out of sorts over.

“You two have a fight?” Walt guesses.

“No,” Michael answers quickly, lifting his eyes to look at him. Walt can see the gears turning in his head as he pauses to think about it another second before he adds, “Well, maybe.”

“You want to talk about it?” he asks when Michael doesn’t elaborate.

Michael eyes him skeptically and, well, Walt supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. Since he entered his teens, they haven’t really _talked_ as much as they used to when Michael was little, after he outgrew his quiet phase and would practically burst at the opportunity to tell Walt all about the new things _he_ learned at school that day, never mind what everyone else was doing. Lately, Walt’s been falling back on what’s become his trademark brand of family bonding, which usually involves a lot more motor oil and “dad music” crackling through his old radio than emotional heart-to-hearts. But Michael’s hurting right now, that much Walt can see plain as day, and he isn’t just gonna sit here and let Michael suffer while he pretends nothing’s wrong. He’ll turn a blind eye to a lot of things, but not that.

Walt sighs and levels Michael with a look. “C’mon, kid. I’m trying here.”

Michael seems to think about it for a moment before he shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he assures him with a tight smile. Walt doesn’t believe him for a second, but before he can call him on his bullshit, Michael adds, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Well, alright then,” Walt says, waving him on. “Go ahead.”

Michael nods and takes a deep breath like he’s psyching himself up for something. Walt waits patiently while Michael finds the words he’s looking for.

“Would it… would it be okay if Alex spent the night sometimes?” Michael asks, and Walt can’t help but huff a laugh at _that_ question.

“You telling me he doesn’t already?” he asks, his eyebrows raised incredulously. He knows he’s seen Michael wake up with bruises on his neck he didn’t go to sleep with and he thanks God every day they don’t share a bedroom wall.

“I—what?” Michael asks, his eyes wide with shock, cheeks flushing a guilty pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denies, and Walt has to fight not to roll his eye. His boy really is a terrible liar.

“You’re not as slick as you think you are, kid,” Walt says simply.

Michael looks at a loss for words for once, which would be amusing if Walt didn’t also clock the way he swallows tensely and curls himself around the pillow a little more. It’s then that Walt remembers what Michael had done when he’d walked in on him with Alex that first time.

 _“Are you mad?”_ he’d asked, eyes guarded and cautious.

The question had taken Walt by surprise. He’s never been a prejudiced man, nor has he ever to his own recollection said anything that would make Michael think that he was. All he’s ever wanted for Michael is for him to be safe and to find the love and happiness his mother crossed galaxies to provide for him. That he’s found those things with a young _man_ rather than a young _woman_ never even registered as something for Walt to be concerned about—Michael being bisexual doesn’t change how much Walt loves him or what he would do to protect him, and, to be honest, when your son is a telekinetic alien refugee, who he’s sleeping with is the goddamn _least_ of your worries. At the end of the day, Walt is just happy Michael can experience life as a normal teenaged boy and isn’t being experimented on in some top secret military bunker.

But as he’d sat idly in front of the TV that night after bringing Alex home, thinking over the conversations he’d had with them, Walt realized something important.

To Michael, sexuality _does_ matter. It matters to Alex too, and Walt would bet the stack of emergency cash he’s got hidden under his mattress that it also matters to Alex’s father. It’s an important part of Michael, one that will inevitably and unfairly shape how some people see him, how they treat him, and it makes Walt feel like he’s swallowed a lead weight to think that Michael ever lived in fear of him finding out about it, that he thought, even for a second, that it would make him any less worthy of love in Walt’s eyes.

And looking at Michael now, watching him shrink in on himself a little at having been caught sneaking his boyfriend in for a sleepover instead of awkwardly laughing it off like he has every other time Walt’s caught him doing stupid teenage shit, makes Walt wonder if maybe he wasn’t as clear as he thought he was that night. If maybe there’s still a part of Michael that’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You know I ain’t mad at you, right?” Walt says, determined to make sure Michael understands here and now that he isn’t and never will be. “You’re eighteen next month. Way I see it, what you do in your bedroom is your business, long as you’re safe and quiet about it.”

“Oh my god, _stop_ ,” Michael whines suddenly, sounding utterly mortified as he shoves his face into the pillow.

His reaction brings Walt up short. “What do you mean ‘stop’? You brought it up, didn’t you?” he defends himself.

“That’s not—“ Michael starts, voice muffled, before he looks up at him again, his face flushed even more, and says, “I meant to _sleep_ , Dad, Jesus _Christ_. I just need to know if I can tell him it’s okay for him to crash here sometimes.”

Walt stares at him a moment, unable to shake the feeling that he’s missing something important here. Michael looks back at him with wide, desperate eyes and he knows he’s right.

“What’s this really about, Michael?” Walt asks.

Michael’s gaze shifts to his hands as he idly picks at his cuticles.

“I told you already,” Michael insists.

“No, you didn’t,” he says patiently. “Why does Alex need a place to crash?”

Michael lets out a weary sigh, and when he looks up again Walt can see he’s holding back tears.

”Things are, um,” he starts, pausing to swallow down the emotion building in his throat, “really hard for him at home right now,” Michael confesses at last. “Or maybe they always have been, I don’t know. There’s a lot he hasn’t told me and I don’t want to push him too hard.”

Walt recalls the fear in Alex’s eyes when he came home that day and caught Michael kissing him on the living room floor, how tense he was on the ride back to his house afterward when it was just the two of them in his truck. He makes an educated guess. “His father?”

“Yeah,” Michael confirms softly.

One look at the haunted expression on Michael’s face and suddenly all those little things Walt has noticed about Alex over the last few months start to make a horrible kind of sense.

“Why didn’t you just lead with that?” Walt asks.

“Alex didn’t want me to tell you unless I had to,” Michael sighs.

Walt nods in understanding. Michael’s a lot of things, but a snitch ain’t one of them.

“I’m worried about him, Dad,” Michael continues a moment later. “I just—I want him to have somewhere he can go when things get bad with his dad and I was hoping it could be here, with us. Not, like, _permanently_ or anything, just—you know. If he needs it. _When_ he needs it.”

Walt doesn’t need long to think about it. He knows a thing or two about running away from a broken home, and offering shelter to the sweet, polite kid who’s never treated his son with anything other than love and respect isn’t exactly a hard sell. This arrangement won’t fix everything for Alex, not by a long shot, but it’s a start.

“Well, you’ll hear no argument about it from me,” Walt tells him.

Michael perks up at that, hope shining in his eyes. “Is that a yes? He can stay the night sometimes?”

“Of course he can, Michael,” Walt answers easily. “He’s welcome to stay as long as he needs.”

Walt can see the line of Michael’s shoulders relax as the burden he’s been carrying around with him all day all but disappears.

“Thank you,” he sighs, his eyes closing in relief, as if the stress of the situation was the only thing keeping him awake.

Walt watches him a second before he makes up his mind.

“Come here,” he says, beckoning him closer when an outstretched arm.

Michael opens his eyes and does as he’s told, ditching the pillow in favor of letting Walt pull him into his arms. He squeezes Michael tight and drops a single kiss to the crown of his head. Wild curls tickle his nose when he does, but Walt doesn’t mind. It’s the longest hug they’ve shared in ages, and even though he initiated it for Michael’s benefit, Walt finds his son’s not the only one who needed it.

“Hey, how long have you known about this?” Walt asks curiously when Michael pulls away.

“I didn’t know for sure until last night,” Michael admits. “He, um, came over to see me after you went to bed and we talked.”

“Hm,” Walt hums thoughtfully. “Shame he didn’t tell you a few days sooner.”

“Why?” Michael asks.

“His old man came by the shop looking to get his oil changed the other day,” Walt explains. “I would’ve overcharged him more if I’d known he’s been giving Alex grief like that.”

Michael’s face looks frozen in shock for a moment before he laughs, a sharp, delighted sound that warms Walt’s heart to hear.

“Wait—“ Michael says suddenly, the full implications of Walt’s confession hitting him belatedly. “ _More?_ As in you already overcharge him?”

“Oh yeah,” Walt confirms shamelessly, leaning back against his headboard. “I’ve been upcharging that son of a bitch for years.”

“Why?” Michael asks, scandalized excitement brightening his eyes.

“He’s a prick,” Walt shrugs. “I need a reason other than that?”

Michael laughs again, shaking his head.

“Absolutely _not_ ,” he says emphatically. “God, I can’t wait to tell Alex. He’s gonna _love_ this.”

Walt sighs, beginning to regret his decision to tell Michael that already.

“Well, make sure it _stays_ between you two,” he warns the boy. “It’d be bad for business if it got out, even if the town oughta give me a medal for it and thank me for my service.”

“Please,” Michael laughs. “Like Alex is gonna tell anyone anything that would _stop_ his dad from getting screwed.”

“Fair enough,” Walt concedes. He peeks over at the alarm clock on his nightstand and has to do a double take at the time. “Jesus, you oughta get to bed, kid. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Ugh, fine,” Michael says, though his indignation is severely undercut by the exhausted yawn he lets out immediately after. He climbs out of Walt’s bed and stretches before heading for the door.

“See you in the morning,” Walt calls after him.

“Mhmm,” Michael hums sleepily.

Walt glances at the pile of bills on his nightstand, but his heart pulls his gaze back in Michael’s direction. There’s something else that needs saying before he goes off to bed.

“Hey, one more thing before you go,” he says before Michael can get too far.

Michael stops in the doorway, leaning back against the jamb when he turns around to show he’s listening.

“I love you,” Walt says earnestly. “I know I don’t tell you near as often as you should hear it, but I do.”

The smile that graces Michael’s face in response is small and heartfelt, a private thing that Walt commits to memory.

“I love you too, Dad,” he says, and he lingers at the threshold a moment longer before he pushes off the doorframe and finally says,“Goodnight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [@prouvaireafterdark!](https://prouvaireafterdark.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also, if you found yourself saying "Huh, I don't remember reading that," to something Walt thinks about, it's because you haven't lol. I haven't finished writing it yet, but it's coming :)


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